


In the Morning I'll be With You, But it Will be a Different "Kind"

by combeferre_writer01



Series: The Witcher Stories [4]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: F/M, idiots to lovers, somewhat graphic description of leg wound
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22283071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/combeferre_writer01/pseuds/combeferre_writer01
Summary: Tumblr prompt: hi! Could you do a Geralt x reader where the reader is his constant companion/best friend and she is another Witcher? Among the years that they’ve hunted together, they fell in love with each other. One night the reader comes home from a pretty nasty hunt and is injured. While Geralt tends to her wounds, they confess their love towards each other and kiss. And then either smut or fluff ensues. Thanks! Sorry if it’s too much!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Series: The Witcher Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1599160
Comments: 3
Kudos: 200





	In the Morning I'll be With You, But it Will be a Different "Kind"

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the song "Skinny Love" Birdy or Bon Iver.

There were very few Witchers. One of the most famous was Geralt of Rivia. It was though he was a lone wolf. However, he happened to travel with a small pack. Y/N was never seen without Geralt, the White Wolf. He was never seen without Y/N. This was because they worked like clockwork. Watching the two fight was a sort of dance. They possessed control, speed, and elegance that most dancers lacked. 

Both Witchers were stoic beings, their unique eyes hiding all thoughts and emotions. The one thing anyone could see, the one thing they couldn’t read on reach others, was love for the other. 

After decades of travelling together, one of their dances faltered and a light shone a bit brighter.

* * *

“I told you to stay in its blindspot, Y/N!” Geralt seethed, practically running with you in his arms trying to find a moving stream so he could clean the gash on your left leg. Jaskier was doing his best to keep up. 

“I wouldn’t have if you hadn’t forgotten your dagger with Roach,” you reminded him through gritted teeth.

Jaskier almost threw up at the sight of your leg. The griffin nipped the back of your calf with its beak and, as a result, a flap of flesh hung from your leg, dripping blood. “The bleeding got worse.” 

Geralt went moved as fast as he dared without causing you more pain. “Feeling?”

“Numb.” 

“Fuck.” Geralt adjusted his hold on you. You, knowing what he was about to do, tucked yourself into him a little tighter. He looked behind him to make sure Jaskier was still on his heels. They exchanged a nod and broke into a sprint.”

It was only about five minutes before the three of you reached the stream, Geralt following his hearing to it. Geralt laid you on the grass beside the stream as gently as possible and sent Jaskier off to find Valerian. The herb would ease some of your pain when turned to a paste with water and lavender.

“I’m lightheaded,” you muttered, turning your head to look at Geralt. “When Witcher’s grow slow and get themselves killed, hm?”

Geralt started cleaning your wound. “You’re not going to die. It’s not your time; I won’t let it be your time.”

“How come?” Your eyes were becoming heavy.”

“Because of all the people I’ve lost to these damn beasts, you’re not going to be one of them. If you and I can save Jaskier from a fucking djin, he and I can save you from the aftermath of a griffin.”

You shifted slightly at the sound of a twig breaking, Geralt laying a firm hand on your stomach to keep laying down. Jaskier was running back with valerian and lavender.

“Oh thank the gods you’re still…” Jaskier caught himself, “...awake.”

“Get the small wooden bowl from the left saddlebag and get a little water in it,” Geralt instructed. “I have to stitch this.” 

“I know. Just get it done with quickly.”

Jaskier handed the bowl to Geralt and sat by your side, pillowing your head in his lap and offering you a hand to squeeze when the pain because too much.

“Keep her awake, Jaskier,” Geralt demanded. “Jokes, tales, songs, I don’t care. Just keep her awake.” 

“Shouldn’t be too hard,” Jaskier shrugged with an easy smile. “But hey, you Witchers heal quickly, don’t you?” The bard patted your shoulder. 

“What jokes do you know, Master Bard?” you requested. 

“So many. Let’s see… Oh, yes! Why do ducks have tail feathers?” Jaskier took you looking at him with a furrowed brow as his cue for the punchline. “To hide their butt quacks!” The man beamed proudly at Geralt’s scoff as he threaded the needle. 

You moaned and tried to look down at Geralt’s hand when the thread was pulled through the first time. 

“No, no, no. Focus on me, Y/N. Me and my filling-less pie. Jokes… Mh! Geralt should like this one, too. I’m emotionally constipated. I haven’t given a shit in days.” That one drew a grunt from Geralt and a giggle from you. “I know more limericks than jokes. Would those suffice?” Jaskier was looking to you for the answer. 

“I don’t know what that-” you squeezed his hand, “-is.”

“A poetic jokes. Here:

Its diet is exclusively herbal;

It grazes all-day

On bunches of hay…

Passing gas with an elegant burble."

Geralt just shook his head. He was trying to get the stitches in place as quickly as possible while keeping them neat and hurting you as little as possible. Jaskier kept telling you limericks and other silly poems until Geralt told him you should be okay to sleep. The bard didn’t waste a second in telling you a tale about an elf and a fairy working together to take down an ogre. It didn’t take you long to fall asleep.

* * *

When you woke up, the pepper sky was salted with stars. A small fire was burning and crackling away, Jaskier seemingly asleep a few feet to your right. Geralt, on the other hand, was staring into the flames as though they burned him. 

“Us Witchers can’t put flames out with our minds, you know.”

Geralt didn’t lookup. “There were a couple of times during your rest today I thought you died.”

“You know you can’t-”

“I won’t lose you like I lose everyone else, Y/N.” His piercing eyes met yours now. 

You pushed yourself to sit up, gripping Geralt’s arm for support. You knew the sounds of his silence. “You’re doing it again, Geralt.”

“What?” 

“Thinking more than you speak. It’s just me.”

“Just isn’t the right word. It’s always been you; I was too blind to see it until now. It was scared out of me. Before I didn’t know what it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

Rather than answering, Geralt leaned towards you and press his lips to yours. Gentle, hesitant. Both he and you had kissed other people but never each other. You rested your forehead on his, looking into each other's eyes.

“You don’t need to stop yourself from loving, Geralt.”

“We’re not supposed to fee-”

“Says who? Who’s better to know than two Witchers?” You leaned back slightly, a smug smirk stretched across your lips. “Besides, since when does Geralt-- the mighty White Wolf-- listen to the rules and guidelines of  _ men _ ?”

Geralt pulled you into a second kiss by the back of your neck and you giggled into the kiss. 


End file.
